Snowbirch

This:to stop you in your tracksand remind you of:


Birchesby Robert Frost
When I see birches bend to left and rightAcross the lines of straighter darker trees,I like to think some boy's been swinging them.But swinging doesn't bend them down to stayAs ice-storms do. Often you must have seen themLoaded with ice a sunny winter morningAfter a rain. . . 
(partial poem. . .)